


Regrets of a Life Lived

by UltimateFandomTrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is good at monologuing, Gen, Sam's Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: It's Sam birthday, but instead of being happy, he thinks about all the mistakes he's made. On this day, more than any other, Sam regrets being alive.





	Regrets of a Life Lived

May 2nd, Sam Winchester’s birthday, a day that he despised. Most of the people who hated their birthdays simply didn’t like the way everyone fussed over them, or they hated their birthdays because they didn’t get enough attention, or because friends and family members forgot about it. Sam hated his birthday for a much more complicated reason.

He got ready for the day just as he would any other day, and it wasn’t till he was in the library researching a case that Dean had woken up. He shambled past Sam - wearing his boxers, a t-shirt, and his dead guy robe - hardly seeming to notice his presence. It wasn’t till after he’d gotten a cup of coffee and had taken a few sips that he seemed to take note of him.

“Morning, Sammy,” he greeted. 

“Hey.” He felt Dean’s eyes on him, so he looked up. “Yeah?”

“You don’t seem very excited,” his brother remarked.

“Excited for what?”

“Your birthday!” he announced incredulously. “Dude, don’t tell me you forgot.”

Sam shrugged, and looked back to his computer. “I didn’t forget, I just…” He paused, not sure if he should say this next part. When he glanced at his brother again his eyebrows were raised expectantly, so Sam sighed and continued slowly, “Don’t particularly care.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, birthdays were never a huge thing when we were kids,” he attempted to explain. “Dad would pick up a card if we were lucky, and usually his presents consisted of guns or knives - not really anything to get excited about.”

“So what, you’re upset that you’ve never gotten to have a normal birthday?”

Realizing that Dean wasn’t going to let him get back to work anytime soon, Sam closed his laptop. “No, that’s not it. It’s just… why is it so important that I’m another year older?”

Dean took a sip of his coffee and then pointed out, “Well, for one thing it means you didn’t die.”

Sam turned his gaze down at the table and said nothing.

“That’s not important to you?” Dean asked. “Man, come on, you being alive is definitely a good thing.”

“Is it?” Sam asked sadly, looking up. “I mean, think about all the people I’ve hurt, all the godawful things I’ve done.”

“Yeah, I’ve done shitty things too,” his brother said, “but that don’t mean that I shouldn’t be alive.” 

Sam was quiet, speculative, and then he asked, “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if I hadn’t been born?”

Dean forcefully placed his coffee cup down on the table and wiped his hands over his face. “Oh god, Sam, you can’t think like that.”

He wasn’t sure he believed him. One moment in particular came up, one that had happened a few months ago. Dean as a demon, Sam having him tied to a chair as he attempted to cure him. The _things_ his brother had said to him, they’d stuck with him. And they hurt. They hurt every day because he couldn’t help but think that they were true.

“I do,” Sam admitted solemnly. “I mean, not that long ago you even told me that I sucked the life out of your life.”

“I was a demon!” he exclaimed. “Demons are just a bunch of jackasses.”

Sam shrugged. “So? It was true. I’m part of the reason Mom died and Dad got obsessed with hunting. Hell, you were the one always taking care of me when we grew up. You didn’t even get to be a normal kid.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean assured. “Sam, I’m glad that you were born, I’m glad that you’re my little brother. I’d be a mess without you, man. Sometimes when life gets too hard you’re the reason I keep going, so don’t you dare tell me that your life has screwed mine up. There are just some things we can’t control, and bad crap happens all the time, especially to us, but we have each other, and that’s what matters.”

Sam knew he shouldn’t argue with what Dean said, he was right after all. They did have each other, but his mood was dark, and he wished he could get his brother to see his thinking.

“But that doesn’t change everything that I’ve done. I’ve hurt people, Dean, I’m the reason some people are dead, I’m even the reason Mom’s dead. So it doesn’t matter that we have each other. After everything I’ve done, it’d probably just be better if I’d never existed. I mean, you would’ve never gone to Hell, I wouldn’t have drunk all that demon blood, the apocalypse probably wouldn’t have started, the people who I let die when I was soulless would still be alive. And why should I be here? What good am I? I didn’t search for you when you were in Purgatory, I didn’t close the damn gates of Hell, and you were a demon because I couldn’t get to you in time and stop Metatron from stabbing you.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Dean questioned him sadly. “All the terrible things you’ve done, all the mistakes you’ve made, they’re _nothing_ compared to the lives you’ve saved, ya hear me? Nothing. Sam, _you saved the world_. Don’t you dare tell me that’s not important, that it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what stupid regrets you have.” 

Sam looked up at that, thoroughly startled. Stupid? His brother thought his regrets were stupid? Anger now joined the mix of dark emotions he felt, but Dean didn’t back down. 

“Yeah, I said it - stupid. It’s stupid that you’re beating yourself up about things you couldn’t help, or things that happened a long time ago. I don’t care if you think you’re evil, or a monster, or some freak, because you’re not. You prove that every day by getting up and saving people. Hell, you’ve probably saved more lives than me. Our lives have our ups and downs, but don’t you dare regret existing. Yes, things happened because you were born, things that probably wouldn’t have happened, but that’s not your fault. _Being alive_ is not your fault. And frankly, I think the world would be worse off without you.” Dean stood, grabbing his cup of coffee. He drained it, and then made to leave, patting Sam on the shoulder as he passed him. “So you know what? Happy birthday, and you’d better have many more.”

With that Sam was alone. Maybe Dean was right. Bad things just happened whether you meant them to or not. He didn’t want to be the reason for so many deaths, but he was. But did that make him a bad person? He tried to be good, and maybe that was the whole point. Maybe regretting his life wasn’t worth it. Maybe it was all about moving forward and trying to be better.

So Sam opened up his laptop again, intent on finding a case. Yes, he’d made mistakes, and he’d hurt people, but he’d saved people as well, and today, he was going to try and save even more. After all, what would a birthday be without getting some hunting done?


End file.
